


The Way it Festers

by mindninjax



Series: The Way It Is [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Crying During Sex, F/M, Make up sex, Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindninjax/pseuds/mindninjax
Summary: It's not always a good thing to hold on to. Sometimes the longer you hold on to it, the worse it feels. Oikawa learns that the hard way.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Series: The Way It Is [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145930
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	The Way it Festers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my angsty bullshit bahaha. If you really wanna be destroyed by this one listen to "Hard Place" by H.E.R and "Drivers License" by Olivia Rodrigo.

It sits and boils and chips away at his mental scale day after day. Yet he clutches it tightly to his chest, like a child reunited with their lost toy. Except he _has_ lost it. The comfort of a warm body to wrap himself around at night competes against the silent echoing halls of a home that once held joyful giggles and absent-minded humming. He’s lost _you_.

Oikawa’s breath is stolen when he runs into you in the hallway. You’re wearing a huge sweatshirt, one with the opposite teams’ colors, a name that is not his draped across your back.

 _Ushijima_.

What a perfect view of everything he’s ever feared standing right in front of him. Of course you’re covered in his name head to foot and of course you stand tall and wear it proudly. Ushijima is your prince, the one who saved you and picked up the pieces after Oikawa shattered them on the ground.

Your eyes are huge as you stare at him in shock. Your mouth presses into a straight line and he sees you take a breath and hold it. When you release it with a huge audibly sigh, his heart clenches. Your lips part as he observes you pondering what to say to him, before you settle on a simple, “Hi.”

Of course you’re the first to speak, you’re the _mature_ one in the relationship. No, not relationship. Whatever it is the two of you are to each other now, exes, acquaintances, enemies, someone he knows he should’ve treated better? What do they call those?

Victims. You’re his victim.

Regardless, you speak and he doesn’t know what to say to you. For the first time, Oikawa is speechless.

What does he say to you? “Sorry?” “How are you doing?” “I still think about you all the time and I miss you and please just give me one more chance?”

No.

“Hey there angel. How’s life been treating you?”

A tiny relieved sigh and then “It’s been fine. How are you?”

He knows you aren’t actually interested, you’re just being polite. Of course you are, because it’s who you are, polite and nice despite any other negative circumstances. It’s what started most of the arguments. It was something he could poke at, prod and complain about to feed his insecurity, his jealous thoughts.

_Why were you talking to the other team’s captain? Why did you smile at him? Aren’t you here to cheer me on? So why should anyone else have your attention?_

The flashbacks of previous thoughts awaken the green monster in him, the one he knows for sure drove you away from him. Yet he can’t stop his mouth from forming the words that slip through his teeth. 

“Only fine? I thought your life with Ushiwaka would be heaven considering you ran off with him the moment we broke up,” he says and regret instantly pounds in his heart when he sees your eyes drop and the light in them dim. 

He’s started the cycle over again, and the two of you aren’t even dating anymore. It’s how it goes, you love him, he pushes you away, you cry, and he apologizes. It’s not that he doesn’t know, of course he knows. He knew the very first time the two of you argued about it. 

The screaming matches, the passive aggressive comments, the crying and pleading, the holding each other and apologizing, and the beautiful heartbreaking sex that followed. All of it a nasty toxic cycle kept running by Oikawa’s fragile ego and your unwillingness to back down from loving every portion of him. 

It’s not that he didn’t love you too, it was painfully clear how much he did, especially now when all his body wants to do is reach out and hold you. Reach out and rip that fucking sweatshirt off your body and kiss your soft sweet lips. But how does one simply put aside an issue, or to be more realistic, a comfort flaw for the sake of another? It’s not as easy as it seems, though of course Ushijima made it look like a fucking cake walk. 

A deep tiring sigh falls from your lips and he can see the pain creep into your expression.

“Ok Tooru, I’m going to go.” 

What does he say? What does he do? It’s been weeks since he’s seen you in person. He’s memorized every word from every post on your social media, committed every line of your smile to his memory as he sat day in and out wishing and hoping that he could just see you again. And when he finally does, he blows it. 

Classic Oikawa. 

He does something he knows he wouldn’t have done months ago so he tells himself that he must be growing. He reaches out and grabs your arm to stop you. He doesn’t stop there as the surprise on your face shines brightly and tells of his unfamiliar gesture. Months ago, he would’ve let you leave, it’s how you slipped through his fingers before. 

He pulls you into an embrace, wraps his arms around your head and pulls your face into his chest. He can smell your soft familiar scent. It smells like home, a home he desperately misses and he has to bite his lips to hold back tears. 

Soft sniffles from below him indicate your feelings and he only holds you tighter. Your arms aren’t around him, they hang dead and heavy at your sides, but you strangely don’t pull away from him. This position, you wrapped in his arms crying and him holding you tightly as if you’ll slip through his fingers again, is familiar. It’s always where the two of you found yourselves. 

If this had been weeks ago, the two of you would be in the bedroom you shared. He’d have pulled you over to him as you sat crying and facing the wall. Your body would feel small and vulnerable against his, and he’d cup your face to look into your eyes and take in all the pain he saw there, a punishment he gives himself. 

To watch you suffer and know it was because of him. He’d stare into your tear filled eyes until he couldn’t take it anymore then pull your face up to kiss you passionately, his lips mouthing “I’m sorry angel” against yours.

If this had been weeks ago, he’d lay you on your back, kiss down your jaw, wipe away your tears and you’d wrap your arms around his neck as you whispered 

“Why can’t you see how much I love you Tooru?”

That would get him, stab him straight through the heart because he _knows_ , he truly does know how much you love him. Otherwise you wouldn’t still be here. But in the moment, staring into your angry eyes as you told him this _thing_ with Ushijima had to stop, pushed him past the brink. Because who are you to tell _him_ how to feel? 

He wouldn’t say any of that though, not while you were under him crying and leaving sweet anguished kisses on his neck as you sobbed. He would lean into your touch, trail his kisses down your neck and nip at the sensitive skin near your ear. He’d hear you moan, like a hurt animal trusting their rescuer for the first time and he’d maneuver himself between your legs. 

Your kisses would become desperate, chipping away to reveal the love he’s hiding underneath that huge blanket of insecurity and he’d promise himself in that moment to show it to you. He’d pull the blanket back and be vulnerable, _for you_ because during sex is when his love shines the brightest. 

He’d quickly pull down the leggings you wore, pull himself from the sweatpants he lounged in, already hard and weeping. The heat of your sweet cunt would beckon to him, and all he would want is to connect with you, be with you, pour everything he was too fucking proud to say to you into the first deep thrust he plunged into your velvety walls. 

_I’m sorry._

_I’m afraid you’ll love him more._

_I’m scared to lose to him._

_Why can’t I be as good as him?_

_I want to be enough for you._

Your groan of pleasure when you two would finally connect would send a shiver up his spine and he would kiss you hard and rough as he continued to pound into you. He’d repeat his apology over and over between thrusts, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…ahh.. So fucking…sorry angel,” watching as you took every inch of him. 

The tears would still run down your cheeks as you ran your fingers underneath his shirt to dig your nails into his skin. He’d wince but never slow down his pace. You’d be mumbling incoherently, sweet little words that he never really paid attention to, not until he was alone without you, dreaming to be inside you again. 

“I love you, I love you, I..love..you..Tooru.”

As you climbed to your orgasm his thrust would become messier, more desperate, deeper as he tried to savor the moment. You’d cry out his name as you came all over his cock, bite into his shoulder as the last of your tears fell and he’d pour ropes of cum into you before collapsing onto you and littering your faces with kisses again. 

The two of you would lay for a minute in your disordered bliss before he whispered to you finally “I love you too, angel.” 

You’d rub his hair as you looked at the ceiling humming a soft tune to yourself and not needing to respond. He’d close his eyes and listen to you hum feeling the vibrations as he laid on your chest. It’s his favorite sound. 

A shame he won’t ever hear it again.

“I…I miss you.” 

The words trickle from his lips, drip like the leaky faucet in his now lonely apartment. The vacant drip drop plucking at every lonely nerve in his body. He’s finally said it, told you how he feels, the deep seated regret that’s nestled itself in him and made a home. He misses you, doesn’t know if he will ever find another love like yours. 

“I don’t miss you Tooru.”

He will _not_ find another love like yours.

You pull back from him, resting your hands on his chest and pushing him back. You’re beautiful, even as the tears fall down your face and your brow furrows in disappointment. He watches you go through the motions, the quick wipe of tears from your lovely cheeks, the shake of your head to rid yourself of the past arguments he’s sure are echoing in your mind the way they echo in his. 

And the way your hand twitches at your side before balling into a tight fist. A sure tell sign that you’re _trying_ to stop your autonomous system from reaching out to him. To tell yourself to stop loving him as it is embedded so deep into your character. 

“Oikawa.” 

A deep baritone voice rings out in the hallway. A voice Oikawa knows all too well. You spin on your heel, the voice beckoning to you, warming you, _saving_ you. Ushijima towers into the hallway, takes a look between you and Oikawa and glares at him before wrapping a huge arm around your waist. 

Oikawa watches you sink into his body, close your eyes and revel in his strength. He watches you look up at him with big doe eyes, full of the most abundant love you could ever bestow upon him. He watches Ushijima caress your cheek and wipe away the remaining tears there, another great symbol of what he is to you. The wiper of your tears.

He turns to Oikawa then, no longer glowering at him after assuring that you’re ok. He can swear he sees a hint of pity in his expression and it makes Oikawa’s blood boil. 

“I’ll see you on the court,” is all he says before turning to walk back toward the gym, his hand still wrapped around your waist as you both leave Oikawa standing there. 

Yes…he ruined a good thing. But he holds on to one simple thing. One thing that he now replays in his mind. Your hand twitching. 

He’s still in your thoughts as you constantly plague his. He repeats to himself over and over. Love this deep can’t possibly be bad for you. And so he holds on to it, keeps it close to his heart, ignores the pain, and lets it fester.

\--


End file.
